The scream from Fëanor startled Maglor out of a sound sleep. Though he was only wearing a gauzy pair of short sleep breeches, he did not even stop to throw on a robe, just bolted out of his room down to Fëanor's room. He didn't want to take any chances that the lack of guards allowed a ship of one or more Telerin to land and retaliate against Fëanor for the First Kinslaying.
Although he also felt a frisson - perhaps that scream was one of release, with Fëanor pleasuring himself now that he had the privacy to do so. Maglor remembered how Fëanor had caught him being intimate with Finarfin through the palantir - Maglor wished so much that Fëanor had offered to lick him clean. But Maglor's twinge of desire was chased by guilt for thinking about sex when he needed his wits about him in case, more likely, Fëanor was in danger.
When he burst into Fëanor's room he saw that Fëanor was alone... disheveled, sobbing. While it was a relief to see Fëanor was alive and unharmed, the sight of him so broken was almost worse than if Maglor had to fend off attackers. At least then he could punish them and make them pay. This - the pain Maglor felt seething, shrieking through the Song - was not something Maglor could fight.
But Maglor went right to him, hoping there was at least a small something he could do to help calm the storm. "Atya," Maglor said softly, putting his arms around his father.
"I'm sorry." Fëanor looked away and tried to compose himself, stiffening his jaw, squaring his shoulders. "You shouldn't have to see me like this, Kanafinwë. It is not seemly -"
"Cut that shit out."
The words came out more harshly than Maglor intended - he didn't want to make Fëanor feel worse by snapping at him - but he was angry at everyone who'd made Fëanor feel like he had to keep himself bottled up and wasn't allowed to have emotions. "You always used to tell me it was all right for me to cry when I was a boy," Maglor said, more gently. He patted Fëanor's back and began to tousle and pet Fëanor's hair, even though touching him was too arousing. "You can cry, Atya. You are allowed."
Fëanor broke down, crying on Maglor's shoulder. Maglor's arms tightened around him and he rocked Fëanor, aching for him. "Bad memories?" Maglor asked.
Fëanor nodded. "I had a bad dream." He let out a shuddery sigh. "The Balrog ambush..." He couldn't finish the sentence and wept harder.
He didn't need to say any more. Silent tears spilled down Maglor's cheeks as he held his father and remembered that fateful day when Fëanor was mortally wounded, died in his arms, going up in smoke and ash, and Maglor had frantically tried to catch Fëanor's ashes.
Though Fëanor was alive again, re-embodiment hadn't taken away the memories, the visceral trauma, of his death... or everything that led up to it. Re-embodiment hadn't taken away the knowledge of everything that had happened since Fëanor's death, all the questions of "what if" he had survived, how things would have been different.
Maglor couldn't change the past, even as he grieved with Fëanor and wished he could fix things somehow. All he could do was try to bring Fëanor back to the present and try to work towards a brighter future. "I'm here. You're safe." Maglor buried his nose in Fëanor's hair, breathed in his scent, rocked him and rocked him...
...desperate to ease Fëanor's pain with pleasure. Making himself hold back from offering himself, in case it made things worse. Right now he needed to put his wants aside and focus on what Fëanor needed, which was peace.
"Everything's all right now," Maglor said, continuing to rock Fëanor. "You're safe with me. You're safe now."
Fëanor wept for what felt like an eternity, and Maglor silently cried with him, like together they were cleansing a long-festering wound with the salt of their tears. At last Fëanor's broken sobs quieted, though he still leaned on Maglor, sometimes sniffling as tears fell.
Maglor tucked Fëanor back into his bed and had an idea. He curled up against Fëanor, took Fëanor into his arms again, and began to sing one of the lullabies that Fëanor had sang for Maglor and his other sons, long ago. This soothed Fëanor enough to stop the tears.
When the song was over, Maglor said, "I'm looking forward to our hiking and camping trip tomorrow. It's a distraction we both need." He meant it. He knew Fëanor loved the beauty of nature - something Fëanor instilled in his sons - and Maglor thought appreciating the wonders of the world would do them both some good, nourishing their spirits.
Fëanor nodded and managed a smile. Then he asked, "Will you sing me another song?"
Maglor would have sung a hundred songs, a thousand songs, if it was what Fëanor needed. But it only took one for Fëanor to drift off to sleep, calmed by the magic in Maglor's voice. For awhile Maglor watched Fëanor sleeping, cheeks burning, stomach aflutter, admiring the loveliness of him. And then his own eyes grew heavy and he put his head on Fëanor's chest and let the dark tide of sleep claim him, the two of them holding each other safe.
The hike was even better for them than Maglor thought it would be. Fëanor delighted in discovering new types of trees, ferns, grasses and wildflowers, and Maglor melted at the way Fëanor's face lit up watching colorful butterflies flittering through a flower-dense part of the forest. The highlight of the hike was climbing up a cliff and looking out across the ocean at the continent from one angle, and over the infinite waves from another, as the sunset in a blaze of red, orange and gold, then muted pink, peach and lavender fading into blue. Fëanorian lamps and moonlight lit the way down, and as they approached camp they were greeted by fireflies, which made Fëanor laugh with happiness.
They roasted fish and vegetables over a fire, and then as the stars rose, Maglor played on his harp and sang while Fëanor sat back and looked up at the stars, in awe. After awhile it looked like Fëanor was dozing off, and the weather was pleasant enough that Maglor thought they could sleep under the stars rather than needing to pitch tents. He rolled out bedding for Fëanor, and then placed his own a few feet away.
Maglor had to rouse Fëanor to get him properly tucked in instead of sleeping on the grass, and once Fëanor was wrapped up in his bedding Maglor was about to walk off to his own but then Fëanor said, "Kanafinwë?"
"Yes, Atya?"
Fëanor swallowed hard and sat up, more alert. He looked around as if he were expecting predators lurking in the shadows. "I'm afraid of having another nightmare."
Maglor felt that ache again, wishing there was something he could do to ease the torment of those memories. But for now... "Would you like me to put my bedding next to yours, and hold you like I did last night?"
Fëanor nodded.
That was what Maglor did. Feeling Fëanor's body against his made Maglor ache for more reasons than wanting to ease Fëanor's pain, but Maglor steeled himself, wanting to be there for Fëanor in his vulnerable time of need. He held Fëanor and sang to him some more, gently petting Fëanor's hair and rubbing his back. With time, Fëanor's breathing slowed, and when Maglor was sure Fëanor had fallen asleep, he closed his own eyes.
But before he could fall asleep, he felt Fëanor shaking - not with silent tears, but with laughter, that quickly bubbled out in that full-bodied laugh Maglor had missed so much.
"What's so funny?" Maglor asked, opening his eyes.
Fëanor grinned. "It seems our roles have reversed." He affectionately tousled Maglor's hair and kissed Maglor's brow. "Perhaps I should be the one calling you Atya."
Maglor's cock leapt to attention, not able to help himself. Maglor's arms loosened their grip around Fëanor's body but he didn't pull back, not wanting Fëanor to feel rejected, even as his cheeks burned, knowing there was no way Fëanor wouldn't feel that hard erection, knowing this could make or break their holiday -
And then Maglor felt Fëanor's own hard arousal, heard the unmistakable hitch of Fëanor's breath.
Their eyes met, and Maglor felt that frisson down his spine again. It was as if they had both been struck by lightning, even though the night was calm. Not thinking, just feeling, Maglor leaned in and their lips met. Kissing not like father and son, but like two lovers, their mouths opening, tongues tasting, teasing. Maglor heard himself groan into the kiss, cock throbbing, and Fëanor moaned too, tongue rubbing Maglor's more insistently.
They broke the kiss and looked into each other's eyes again, breathing harder. Maglor's cock felt ready to explode. Fëanor began rubbing against him, cock grinding against cock through their breeches, and this time Fëanor initiated the kiss, tongues seeking, playing, licking and rubbing together, mirroring the way their hard erections teased, aching to be free.
Maglor reached down and undid his breeches, letting them fall down his thighs, and then he did the same for Fëanor, his hands shaking. Maglor pulled back the covers to get a good look at his father's cock for the first time - long and thick, shaped almost exactly like Finarfin's. Maglor moaned at the sight of it, and Fëanor let out a shuddery sigh as he looked at Maglor's cock, already dripping with pre-spend, twitching under Fëanor's hungry gaze.
Maglor hadn't packed oil with their camping supplies, assuming he wouldn't need it - that if they went there at all, it would be some days yet, giving Fëanor more of a chance to find himself again after months of no privacy. Now Maglor cursed internally, wishing he'd brought a vial of oil. But there were other things they could do.
Other ways to express his love, his longing. Other ways to take Fëanor to a better place for awhile.
They kissed again and again, and when they caught their breath, Maglor looked down and reflexively licked his lips at the sight of a pearl of pre-spend sliding down Fëanor's shaft. That finalized his decision to spoil Fëanor with his mouth. Maglor kissed and licked his way down Fëanor's neck, lapped and suckled at one nipple, then the other, making Fëanor arch to him with broken cries. Maglor went back and forth between Fëanor's hard nipples, enjoying how sensitive they were, just like his... the way they grew plump with arousal, just like his own. Maglor sucked Fëanor's nipples harder and harder until Fëanor gave a high-pitched whimper, and then Maglor relented and made a path down Fëanor's chest and stomach with his lips and tongue and teeth and fingers, his cock throbbing as Fëanor trembled beneath his touch, panting.
Their eyes locked as Maglor drew the head of Fëanor's cock in his mouth for the first time, then the first few inches. He sucked slowly, watching Fëanor quiver, breath in shuddery gasps, heat in his eyes, moaning. Maglor moaned encouragingly around the cock in his mouth, wanting Fëanor to enjoy this, to savor this. Wanting to savor him, the ephemeral sweetness of their first time.
Maglor's head slowly bobbed up and down, Fëanor's cock sliding in and out of his mouth, one hand working up and down the bottom of Fëanor's shaft as he stroked himself with the other, going out of his mind with lust. Fëanor's moans became whimpers and yelps, and Maglor thrilled to the sound, relishing the way Fëanor lost contol to him. After a few minutes Maglor let the cock slip from his mouth and playfully tapped the head against his tongue, making streamers with Fëanor's pre-spend. "That's a good boy," Maglor purred. "Let your Atya take care of you."
"Fuck!" Fëanor shuddered and another bead of pre-spend rolled down the head and shaft.
Maglor lapped at it, then smiled as he took Fëanor's cock in his mouth again. This time he sucked harder, faster, rubbing his tongue as he sucked. Fëanor panted, writhing, his eyes feverish. Maglor's grip tightened on his own cock, stroking faster, and as he felt Fëanor's cock pulsing in his mouth he made himself slow down his stroke, not wanting to come yet... knowing his orgasm would be all the more delicious if he held off, waiting to watch Fëanor come.
It didn't take much longer. Maglor let Fëanor's cock slip from his mouth again to tease, his tongue rubbing back and forth over the slit, around and around the head, then up and down the shaft. Then he sucked at just the head, working his tongue, kissing it. He stopped stroking himself so he could use both hands, one to gently cup and roll Fëanor's balls, the other to stroke the shaft of Fëanor's cock as he kept his lips wrapped around the head, sucking, licking. Fëanor's eyes widened and his mouth opened, and Maglor knew he was right there. Fëanor's hips bucked again and he threw back his head, screaming into the starry sky as his body thrashed, hot cream flooding Maglor's mouth, salty-sweet.
Maglor moaned as he swallowed it down, burning this moment into his mind's eye to relive and enjoy for all time. Fëanor was glorious in his ecstasy, like a force of nature. Maglor lapped Fëanor's cock clean, wanting every last drop of his father's seed, then he slid up to kiss Fëanor and resumed stroking himself.
That kiss was Maglor's undoing. He knew he was about to climax. He quickly rose to his knees and straddled Fëanor's shoulders, his cock in Fëanor's face, stroking himself furiously. "You want your Atya's seed?"
"Yes," Fëanor breathed. "Please, Atya..." He opened his mouth and held out his tongue, waiting.
And just like that, Maglor lost control, coming on Fëanor's tongue and then all over Fëanor's face. Marking Fëanor with his seed made his climax even hotter - the pulsing release seemed to go on forever, the pleasure so intense. Maglor let out a deep, primal grunt as he came and Fëanor tasted him for the first time, Fëanor was marked, claimed by his seed for the first time.
As Maglor lay next to Fëanor, he felt like he was floating in bliss. Then he felt Fëanor shaking and when he opened his eyes he saw Fëanor had hardened right up again and was stroking himself. It seemed Fëanor quite enjoyed Maglor coming on his face. Fëanor licked his lips, confirming that knowledge as he savored the lingering taste of seed.
"Slut," Maglor said, amused that he was now applying Finarfin's word for him, to Fëanor. Like father, like son.
"Your slut," Fëanor panted. "I'm Atya's little slut..."
Maglor's cock sprang back to life. He kissed Fëanor with a growl and rolled against him, then took both their cocks into his fist. Fëanor kissed him back passionately and put his hand on top of Maglor's, gently guiding the rhythm. Feeling the silken steel of Fëanor's cock on his in the tight grip of his fist and looking down at their cocks rubbing together drove Maglor wild, rocking his hips, and Fëanor did the same, moaning. They kissed deeply then open-mouthed, tongues licking, before another fierce, needy kiss. Maglor's hand sped up and their cocks rattled in his hand; Fëanor whimpered, digging his nails in Maglor's back.
Maglor kissed and nibbled Fëanor's sensitive neck, then licked up his throat for their tongues to play together again before another deep kiss. Fëanor whimpered more urgently and Maglor answered with a growl. Fëanor's free hand slid up Maglor's chest and back down, before he reached up to touch Maglor's face, tenderly. Maglor leaned into Fëanor's touch, smiling, then that moment of love was followed by hotter lust, as Maglor's free hand reached down to collect their mingled pre-spend on his fingers, then he stuck his fingers in Fëanor's mouth. His fingers slid in and out of Fëanor's mouth like Fëanor was sucking a cock, and Maglor couldn't take it anymore. He licked Fëanor's neck, then bit it with another growl. "Be a good boy and come with Atya," Maglor commanded.
Fëanor howled and Maglor screamed as they climaxed together, cream pouring down their cocks. They watched cock coming on cock, then looked into each other's eyes and shared one more passionate kiss, hearts thundering together - for an instant it was as if they didn't know where one ended and the other began, one flesh, one soul, then it was as if they were the only two people in the universe, one with the light of the stars. They came down holding each other, breathing each other's breath. Now Maglor was the one to tenderly touch Fëanor's face. Fëanor smiled and Maglor smiled back, happy he could give his father joy again.
Fëanor snuggled closer to him and Maglor held him tight. "I love you, Kanafinwë," Fëanor mumbled into Maglor's shoulder, then a softer "I love you, Atya."
"I love you," Maglor replied. He gave Fëanor a squeeze and rocked him a little. They rubbed noses.
Just as Fëanor started to doze off, Maglor kissed his brow and whispered, "Good boy." And then his lips quirked with a smile of victory - this vacation was about to become a lot more fun.
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